


Apotheosis

by pulsadinura



Category: GODZILLA Trilogy (Anime 2017)
Genre: M/M, Plot is nowhere to be found but that's okay, Porn with Feelings, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulsadinura/pseuds/pulsadinura
Summary: “Perhaps I should tell you.” Metphies suggests over the hum of machinery. “The powerful and destructive name we Exif keep secret.”
Relationships: Metphies/Sakaki Haruo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Apotheosis

“Perhaps I should tell you.” Metphies suggests over the hum of machinery. “The powerful and destructive name we Exif keep secret.”

Haruo does not know how to respond to this, or perhaps lacks the will to. He is heavy with the day’s exhaustion, restless before battle, and it seems anathema to charge back into the fray armed with a name as if it could turn the tide. The Exif may gird themselves with their faith, invoking the apocryphal destruction of their planet, but Haruo has little sympathy for them. He witnessed the destruction of Earth himself, felt the flames on his face as he ran for the launch pad. It isn’t a myth, it is simply his reality, and he carries it with the impassive resolve of a refugee. _What killed your planet? Does it matter? Is it as terrible as what killed mine?_

He is only spurred to act when Metphies rises, and rounds on him darkly, forcing him to take a defensive step back.

The Exif’s overlong legs quickly close the gap between them. In a cavern of unknowable threats Metphies, his ally, has made himself into yet one more, cornering him like a prey animal. His serene, pale face reveals no intention. “Hey, hey,” Haruo cautions as Metphies towers over him. The heel of his boot scrapes against the stone wall. Thus trapped, Metphies leans over him, and Haruo feels the puff of his breath against his cheek.

“The name…” Metphies breathes in his ear.

Haruo’s mind races. The Exif invaded Earth, and their god turned half his troops into zealots. Yet Metphies came to his aid when he was imprisoned. Metphies believes him to be vitally important. And currently, Metphies’ lips have touched his earlobe, which has sent a jolt of longing through him the way nothing else has, not even Yuko, though she tries.

“This is no good,” Metphies says, raising a gloved hand to cup Haruo’s cheek. “You may yet require some preparation.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Haruo asks, trying to sound stony, but his voice comes out with a damnable tremor in it. Metphies’ face is still uncomfortably close, wearing a clergyman’s unreadable smile.

“It means,” Metphies intones, running his long fingers over Haruo’s tensed jaw, “that you should understand the sort of power our God possesses, before you accept His gifts. In this way you will come to know these gifts with the whole of your being.” He leans closer, speaking into Haruo’s mouth. “Here,” he says softly, “allow me to instruct you, Haruo.”

Haruo, against himself, always enjoyed the way Metphies pronounced his name as an exhalation, like a prayer. It made him feel like he belonged somewhere, even if it was only on his tongue.

Haruo takes Metphies’ head between his hands and closes the space between them, their lips meeting. Metphies’ skin is inhumanly soft, untouched by the elements. Haruo suddenly wants to feel as much of it as he can reach, and grips the neck seal of Metphies’ flightsuit, ready to detach it.

Metphies makes a chiding sound, breaking their kiss. “You have never been patient,” he scolds against Haruo’s temple.

“What? This was what was what you meant by instruction, right?” Haruo laughs, and again it comes out wrong, more suspicious than confident.

Metphies’ arms drop to Haruo’s waist, encircling him. The Gematron crystal that Metphies still holds rests against the small of his back, only the fabric of his undershirt separating them. “Well,” Metphies chuckles, “in a manner of speaking.” And suddenly, his grip is dangerously tight, no longer warm. Haruo struggles, but the Exif’s slim arms are crushingly strong, and he is locked in place with his cheek crushed against Metphies’ armored chest. Metphies wrests him bodily to the machine where his sacred stone is being worked on, and drops him to the ground with a blow to the back of the knees. Before he can react, handcuffs close around his wrists, tightening with a hydraulic hiss.

“What is this?” Haruo barks. Enraged, he thrashes, but one strong arm bars his chest and holds him immobile. The two are silent for a time, Haruo breathing heavily, with Metphies pressed against his back, armor plating digging into his spine.

With his free arm, Metphies reaches out and calmly places the Gematron crystal on the machine’s counter before them. It glimmers as if watching.

“You must learn to kneel before God,” Metphies says. One hand nudges at his knees in the dirt, pushing his legs apart. “This may bring back unpleasant memories of your captivity, I know,” Metphies says, as he cranes over the high collar of his suit to bring his lips to Haruo’s neck. “I am not your jailer. Merely your shepherd before God. I require your compliance.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Haruo spits. Despite his shock, and the sting of being restrained by someone with no military training, he can feel his erection stirring beneath his armor. “If this is some kind of test, I don’t want it. I don’t care about your god!”

“It seems that you do want it,” Metphies replies, fastidiously loosening the latches of his glove. His bare fingertips uproot Haruo’s shirt from his belt and graze his toned stomach, causing him to shudder. Metphies pulls the shirt over his head in a deft movement, entangling it in his locked arms. Before Haruo can move, Metphies locks an arm across his chest again and grips his neck, his fingertips poised to dig into his skin. If Haruo resists, he knows, it will turn into a chokehold.

“Exposed before God, you are a conduit of His will. Before Him, even a place such as this can be an altar. Turn your thoughts toward Him, and we will begin.” Metphies is using his preachers’ voice, benevolent and sure. His free hand detaches the armor plating on Haruo’s legs.

Haruo’s thoughts do not turn to God. Instead, they turn to Yuko. Slight, plaintive Yuko, wallowing in a procedurally generated flight bay nearby, waiting for him.

Metphies eases the inner layer of Haruo’s flightsuit open, exposing the growing bulge beneath his briefs. His hand comes to rest on it, and Haruo’s eyes close in anticipation. “You are unfocused,” Metphies whispers in his ear. “I need you here with me.” He begins to knead rhythmically, and Haruo’s mouth drops open. Encouraged, Metphies increases his pace. “Clear your mind of trivialities.”

Haruo bristles at that. Yuko had never been trivial. Yuko was the last innocent, human thing in a decimated world. She didn’t deserve Metphies’ judgment. Haruo wants to tell him, wants to explain how humans _need_ each other in times of crisis, not that the Exif could _understand_ that—

Metphies removes his hand, and Haruo wilts in his grip, letting out a shaking breath. “What did I tell you?” Metphies says. “Clear your mind.”

“Okay, okay,” Haruo grunts. Metphies sets in on him again, this time finding his shaft beneath his briefs and gripping it, and Haruo’s whole body tenses. He imagines a blank slate behind his eyes, a barren sky. He imagines a flower. He tries to banish Yuko, tries to banish anything that will make Metphies stop. Metphies strokes the slit of his cock’s head with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make him harder still, making his hands twitch in their cuffs. Metphies’ hand twists around his shaft, hard, pulling it free from his briefs, and Haruo thinks that he would gladly never think about anything again as long as he gets to come.

Haruo throws himself back against Metphies’ chest and lets out a strangled groan. Metphies’ touch is so soft, so torturously slow. No one had ever touched him like this. There had always been a sense of urgency in his brief encounters, frantic and uncaring, just overworked, malnourished bodies throwing off their tired flightsuits in their barren dormitories so that they might feel something briefly, dead space looming beyond the bulkheads. Not so now. As if completing his thoughts, Metphies says, “I can keep you here as long as I like.” He increases the pressure and Haruo throws his head back against Metphies’ shoulder, sucking in air through gritted teeth. Metphies runs his free hand over Haruo’s rippling torso appraisingly. “Give yourself over to God. Starting with me, His servant.”

Metphies tightens his grip around Haruo’s neck, bracing him in position. “Turn your eyes upon the crystal,” he commands. Haruo’s countenance slips, but when Metphies removes his hand from his cock, he shapes up quickly. His eyes bore into the green stone, tessellating patterns shimmering within it. “We Exif use these stones to divine messages from God. But you, you have no need for ancient technology. Your prayers, through the purity of your feelings, can reach God directly, and He in turn can speak directly through you, Haruo.”

Haruo’s cock is slick with precome now, with Metphies gradually increasing the speed of his strokes. How he wanted this, Metphies’ philosophizing notwithstanding. He had always felt a pang of desire every time the young Exif leaned over him, standing just a little too close. When Metphies would feed him information, back in his prison cell, he would eagerly await the point during their faked benediction where he would lay his cool hands across his shoulders, then push him to his knees. The things he could have done to him, in there, had the security feeds not watched.

“I chose you, long ago,” Metphies continues. “So brave you were, and so far from home. Your hatred was so strong. Your leaders punished you for this. You burn so brightly with glory that they were too cowardly to even look upon you, lest they be burnt.” Haruo leans his head against the crook of Metphies’ neck, his back arched, panting as Metphies works at him. “They tried to break you and they failed. So now, on the edge of cataclysm, summon up every ounce of your courage and lead us to victory in God!” Metphies’ grip is so hard, his speed bordering on too much. Haruo lets out a broken, quavering gasp and Metphies eases up, wrapping his arms around Haruo’s stomach and brushing his neck with his lips while he trembles in his grasp. “Give in to me, and to God. Divine obliteration,” he breathes. “Let go of your fear, Haruo.”

Squirming and panting, fear is far from his mind. He wants only to be brought off, for Metphies to stop toying with him and give him what he wants. Metphies grazes his cock with his fingertips, just once, drawing a wild, half-swallowed groan from him. Metphies makes an appeased sound and does it again. He’s so hard he could explode. Another touch that light could finish him.

Metphies is again at his ear. “ _The devouring name…is Ghidorah_ ,” he whispers, and grips him tightly.

His vision goes black when he comes, like he could faint, pitched over the edge of an event horizon. He’s sure he has cried out, but he can hear nothing anymore. In darkness, with all consciousness turned inside-out, something gold churns distantly, relentless and powerful. It surges forth, and in doing so gains detail, three narrow, gauntlet-shaped heads with myriad eyes. Nothing about it looks terrestrial, or forged by evolutionary processes. It looks like entropy itself. Its mandibles part and it screams a sound beyond sound, shattering and unfathomable.

He comes to sagged against Metphies’ armor, drained and delirious and groaning. Metphies cradles his head in long-fingered hands. “Obliteration is the highest act of worship,” he tells him. “I hope you understand now.”

“I, uh,” Haruo stammers. He can barely get himself together. “What was that? You…did something.”

“You have seen the face of our God.” Metphies says, disentangling himself from Haruo’s strained limbs and standing. “The Planet Eater. I hope you now know what you need to do.” He paces to the machine’s control panel, and finding its arcane work satisfactory, he switches it off and plucks the stone from its print bed.

When Metphies reaches for the Gematron crystal as well, a realization dawns on him. “Wait, you’re just going to leave?”

“Unless you require anything else?”

“I thought…” Haruo trails off. “With people, this sort of thing is reciprocal. You don’t feel any kind of…want?”

“We Exif have no need for that particular impulse. Our reproduction is…how shall I put this? Hands-off, only taking place when Gematron calculations deem it necessary to maintain our numbers. Although,” he added, swooping down to run a gentle hand through Haruo’s sweat-matted hair, “we find that inducing this state in humans makes them more receptive.”

Haruo startled at his touch, overstimulated nerves bristling. With another motion, Metphies triggered the release on the handcuffs, which dropped to the floor unthreateningly.

Before he could rise, Haruo grabbed him by the wrist. “Wait,” he said. “I want you to stay. I want you to explain what just happened. You can’t just use me and go.”

Metphies looked upon him sympathetically, then withdrew. “You have seen all you need to. Your only responsibility now is to give yourself over to God’s will. But you should also see to Sergeant Tani. She is waiting for you in the hangar bay.”

His footsteps retreating into the cave were light and unburdened.

Left alone, Haruo dragged himself off the floor and clumsily recalibrated his armor. If Yuko was to see him now, treason would be written all over his face, and his trembling hands. So he lingers, staring at the nanometal-veined ceiling, waiting for his pulse to slow. He feels induced to helplessness, all of his objectives tainted by Metphies’ pale hands, his voice in his ear.

Perhaps that was what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely no one:
> 
> Me: [chucks porn at these movies no one liked and leaves]


End file.
